


"And you did hide away, what should always have been mine"

by Magiccloser



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Tragic Love Story, jones cuts his heart out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 23:30:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11001276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magiccloser/pseuds/Magiccloser
Summary: Davy Jones had waited, he has dutifully cared for the poor souls who died at sea, ten years he's been fulfilling the duty he was charged with, finally the time has come to see his bellowed and quell the all-consuming ache inside him. or has it?





	"And you did hide away, what should always have been mine"

And you did hide away, what should always have been mine.

An unbearable ache, a pain so excruciating and torturous, a pain so white-hot and foreign, a pain so sweet and gentle, unlike anything he had never known before, a pain that brought him hot flashes, restless nights, a pain that ate him from the inside out, from the inside out.  
He’d been waiting, waiting for ten years, he’d dutifully cared for the poor souls who died at sea, and had seen them safely to the other side, like she’d asked. Ten tedious years, spent listening to one sob story after the other, ten years with this terrible aching pain, a pain that made his heart heavy and his mind cloudy, “Land ho!” a random crewmember announced the appearance of the Isla Cruces, the agreed upon meeting place for him, and his beloved. He’d wanted to go alone, so alone he went, he lowered himself into a dinghy and rowed ashore, it was a little after midnight, and the sea was dark and still like a mirror, it reflected the clear starlit sky above, in the distance the beach of Isla Cruces glowed faintly in the moonlight like a gentle pearl, the signature warm night air of the Caribbean caressed his face as he rowed towards the island, which in more ways than one held for him, unspeakable treasure. The dull ache in his chest, that he had learnt to live with for ten years, was stirring and stung like, Cupid’s arrow had recently bored its way through it. He rowed faster, the pain in his chest leading him towards, Isla Cruces, and the promise of alleviation.  
A gentle breeze rolled over the silent beach of Isla Cruces, bringing with it a series of tame waves, that lazily rolled over the braking, the palm threes’ leaves shuffled, a seagull cried out, and the night once again fell silent. “Calypso!” he called out, he was jumping on one leg, hastily taking off his boots, he wanted to feel this, he wanted to feel the sand under him, he wanted to feel grounded, his chest was hurting intensely now, each thump of his heart brought him a bought of fresh pain, he looked around, scanning the beach for any sign of his love, when he didn’t see her he called out again, “Calypso!” There was no answer, the silence felt suffocating, the steady ground beneath him made him dizzy, so used to sailing, he’d forgotten how to walk on the dry land, he felt foreign here, out of place, with each beat of his heart the pain grew, he couldn’t bare it, he stumbled across the beach, his boots and coat lay abandoned in the dinghy he’d sailed in. “Calypso?!” the night was growing lighter, and the sky was beginning to change its hues from the inky black starlit carpet, to a lighter softer blue, forewarning the forthcoming of the regular harsh blue tropical sky, the air was growing warmer, and still there was no sign of his dearly loved, he’d walked the circumference of the island, calling her name, he’d stumbled over the unfamiliarly porous sand beneath him, he ached, and longed for her, he couldn’t bear it. He scouted the horizon, each time he saw the slightest of movement, whether it be the jump of a fish that broke the clean line of the horizon or a seagull swooping low, he expected it to be his lover rising from the depths to greet him, but the Island save for him, remained silent and desolate.   
He did not know how many hours had passed, he counted the time, only in his beating heart, the pain inside him seemingly only amplified by the dry land beneath him, he stared wistfully at the sea, like he’d done so many times before his curse, how he ached for her, how his body called for her. Tears were streaming down his eyes, landing in his long beard, he sat on a sand dune about two hundred metres from the coast, the morning had come now, the sun was baking down on him, the nearly white sand became unbearable to look at, a seagull landed near him, yet he took no notice, his eyes were glued to the sea, watching for any sign of her, he stared for so long, the sea and sky seemed to melt into one, the wind was ruffling the palm trees, whistling a gentle love song that blew over the island. However, he’d longs since stopped hearing the wind, the only sound in his ears was the painful thumping of his own tortured heart; “where are you” he whispered, he never removed his gaze from the horizon, any second he thought, she’d manifest and walk from the braking to him, and they would spend the day together. He’d caress her thighs, bite and suckle on her neck, he’s kiss her mouth and drink from her the sweetest nectar known to man, he’d love her with the entirety of his being, he’d appreciate her, he’d show her in all ways he could, his love for her, he’d find in her the cure to his accursed painful heartbeats, she’d soothe him, her gentle eyes would bring him the respite he’s craved for ten years. He’d tame her and make her his. The pain was becoming inhumane, he could not take him, half the day had passed, he was sure, the sun was high on the sky, and still there was no sign of her, the sea was quiet and unsettled, the seagulls had become so accustomed to his waiting shape they would land right by him, he was quiet now, save for a few desperate sobs wracking his ribcage, where was she?   
He’d walked around the island again, maybe she was hiding from him, playing games, pretending to be shy like a lovesick teenager, maybe she wanted for him to uncover her, they’d laugh together, he’d take her mouth in his and they’d fall to the ground, their bare skin would make intricate patterns in the warm white sand, her dark eyes would look into his, and his chest would be light. His chest hurt, he’d walked around the island now 7 times, he was becoming desperate, the sunlight had ceased its incessant baking, telling of soon to be transition from day to evening, the sea was bathed in a golden orange light, and it was beautiful, but not to him, he chest ached like it never had before, his whole body convulsed with each beat of his poor lovesick heart, the pain was unbearable, impossible to live with, and yet he did not die.   
He couldn’t take much more of this, he screamed for her, cried for her, begged for her to arrive, the evening turned to night, and his desperation turned from fear to sadness to anger to fury, his chest was like a flaming rock, heavy and excruciatingly painful, he ripped and tore at his own flesh, leaving nothing but bloody gashes behind, he pulled like he was going to pull his heart out, she had betrayed him he though, she’d pretended to love him, she had tricked him into serving her for ten years, she’d made a fool of him, there was no doubt in his mind she was watching him from the sea now, laughing at him, how he ached, he ached with his love, and with his desire, and with his hatred, how he hated her, he hated her for what she had done to him, for how she had tricked him, she’d cursed him, she’d promised him his wildest dreams, and had then revealed them to be hollow and naught but ash.  
He screamed, he couldn’t bear it, it wasn’t possible; he screamed, he screamed for her, for the sea, for himself. His heartbeat faster and more painful, till he could feel nothing but the pain and the rage, blind with betrayal and sorrow he dug a knife from his belt, tore open his shirt, and cut through the skin that covered his chest.   
In the end it had been easy, his skin had parted like butter revealing to him the source of his ten-year-long misery, his heart was still beating when he cut it from his chest, and to his surprise, it was also still beating when he held it in his hand, there he stood on the beach, the sky was dark, and midnight was fast approaching, he blinked, put his empty hand to his chest, and felt nothing, not the tell-tale beating of his pained heart, not the familiar heavy burden of love and passion, there was nothing, despite holding his still beating heart in his hand, he could not feel it, the familiar pain was far away and muffled, like he was watching it through glass or reading about it in a story, but it was there.   
The pain wouldn’t go away he realised with a confusing mix of relief and disappointment, he was back aboard The Flying Dutchman, it was about an hour past midnight, he’d locked his still beating heart in a chest, along love notes, letters and other trinkets that served to remind him of his true love, all he had left of her on the ship, was a small heart shaped locket, made of pure silver, that when opened played a melancholic melody, he kept the locket and the key his chest around his neck, and intended to keep them there, for eternity. The chest he had had his men bury on Isla Cruces, never to be found by anyone but him.   
That night alone in his chambers he looked at the locked, and listened to the gentle melody, tears gathered in his eyes, and somewhere far away he felt the familiar ache of his beating heart, he furiously wiped the tear away, he felt consumed with rage, he wanted to hurt her like she had hurt him, he thought of her, of her untameable, free, playful and harsh nature, a plan formed in his head, a plan that guaranteed him the perfect revenge; he hurried on deck as fast as he could roaring whilst he walked “All hands on deck, we have a new heading!” whoever was acting coxswain at the moment ran to his side, “aye sir!” he said looking at Jones expectantly, Jones smiled, “set course for Shipwreck Cove, I plan a visit to the Brethren.”

**Author's Note:**

> Oh the tragic love between these two is enough to make me cry if i so much as think about Davy Jones... I really wanted to write my take on this poor man's painful love.   
> It might not be too obvious but he's human in this work as I strongly believe all these tentacles didn't come to be until after he performed surgery on himself lol...
> 
> OBS! this works is NOT beta read and therefore is susceptible to errors.


End file.
